Talk to Me
by fifthofnovember
Summary: House/Cameron, shameless PWP. Very hard M, readers 18 or older only please. Minor Season 5 spoilers. Ch 6 now up, in which things get a little kinky, though just a little . If that's not your thing, press back.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing but these words. Don't sue me.

A/N: House/Cameron PWP, 18+ only please. Starts out a bit dark but stay with me, I don't write non-con and even if I did, it wouldn't work between these two. One shot for now, not sure if I'll add to it or not. The general tone of this fic was going to be incorporated in my story Beautiful as a scene in there, but it ended up not fitting. Still, it demanded that I write it, and the blanks were filled in walking back to my parking ramp after work one day. Enjoy.

**Talk to Me**

House promised himself after the last time that if she gave him that wide eyed, open mouthed, chewing-on-her-lip, pseudo-innocent stare once more, he was going to do something about it. And when Gregory House made a promise to himself, he kept it. So, when Cameron felt it her professional duty to stop by his office after leaving the lab in the wee hours of the morning just to tell him that she was going home and made it a point to stare too long, to linger after the conversation was done, to take one last stutter step before pushing his door open and walking through it, his mind was already in the parking garage. She shouldn't stand around waiting like that unless she was actually prepared to get what she was waiting for.

He stayed in his chair for 3, 2, 1 and then headed down the hall to the elevator. He knew that Cameron would be in the locker room changing before she left, as always, and considered paying her a visit there, but then thought the parking ramp was a more appropriate venue and used the time she spend changing to start in that direction. It was almost like he'd taken a dry run at this before (although he hadn't) because his timing was perfect. Just as soon as Cameron walked through the door nearest her car, House walked through the one on the opposite side. Cameron paused, noticing something different about him, and while she was unsure what it was, she picked up on it just the same. He seemed to have some sort of purpose that would wait for his arrival.

He watched her watching him, and without a word, a gesture, or a break from the cadence of his steps walked over to the driver's side of her car and leaned squarely against it. Cameron sighed audibly; she was much too tired to play whatever game he was trying to start. She'd gotten in at 8 AM and it was now just before 3 the following morning. Just because House was an insomniac didn't mean that she felt any desire to keep him amused in the wee hours. She walked over to the side of her car where he stood and in no mood to negotiate just cocked her eyebrow at him and uttered "Yes?", hoping to prompt him to say whatever he needed to say, gloat about whatever he needed to gloat about, analyze whatever he needed to analyze about her, and then go on about his evening so she could get some damn sleep.

"Saying yes already? Well, that was certainly easier and less dramatic than I'd thought it would be…I guess fantasies don't always play out in real life the way they do in the mind, huh?"

"House, what the _hell_ are you talking about? Can't this wait? It's 3 in the morning, I've been here since – "

"How long did you think you could look at me like that before I did something about it? I mean, if you keep sending out an invitation, sooner or later I'm bound to take you up on it. But you know that, I'm assuming, which is why you do it."

"Look at you how? Do what?"

"You know damn well how and what. The way you undress me with your eyes. I can see it every time you chew on your lower lip – the same way you're doing now, by the way – that you're not listening to a word I say, instead, you're probably off somewhere indulging in whatever fantasy your imagination and your right hand cooked up about me the previous night. While I find that flattering, if I'm going to get you off I think it would be more fun for both of us if I were actually involved in the act, don't you? And honestly, how many times do you think you can rub up against me like you do and think it won't affect me?"

Cameron laughed slightly, just a puff of air through her teeth. "Don't flatter yourself. The lab is small, in case you hadn't noticed. I have no choice but to stand close to you and to whomever else may be down there as well."

He reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her roughly toward him. "Not this close. Which is exactly what you do, except you're usually facing the other direction and rubbing your gorgeous ass against me instead. And this?" He leaned his cane against her car and dropped his other hand to her hip, pressing her against his erection. "This is what happens to me every single time you do it, which is nearly every day. Now, I know you might not know that much about male anatomy being as naïve as you are, but it tends to get pretty uncomfortable walking around hard as a hickory bat in jeans all day."

Cameron didn't know what to make of all this. What House was saying was right. She had always wanted him, flirted with him, teased him, and fantasized about him way more than even she knew she should, but she now realized that she'd never really thought about what, if anything, she expected him to do or what she'd do if he actually did come up with something. She did, however, have a feeling she was about to find out what he would do because he'd obviously come up with something.

She braced her hands flat against the lapels of his jacket, not pushing him away but not welcoming him either. "You admitted that you hired me because I'm pretty. Men react to pretty women. I understand _that_ about "male anatomy", at least. What did you think was going to happen? So you're attracted to me. I'm flattered as well. But your feelings are _your _problem."

"Now, see, ordinarily I'd agree, if they weren't mutual. Which they so obviously are. And you know what else is obvious? We're doing entirely too much talking." With that, he braced the back of her neck with one hand and kissed her roughly. She resisted, keeping her body rigid against him and her hands firmly against his chest where they'd been. He gave up his attempt for the time being and looked her in the eyes, which were a mix of frustration, confusion and lust.

"OK, here's the thing. I'm at least 6 inches taller than you and outweigh you twice. It would be the easiest thing in the world for me to throw you over the hood of this car and have my way with you." To prove his point, he pulled her tighter against him and pivoted on his good leg, switching their positions and pinning her up against the door of the car. The sensation of the cold metal against her back and the heat of House's body pressed up against her contradicted and intensified one another, making the whole situation just that much more surreal. "And moreover, once I found the right spot to kiss you…" His lips zeroed in on the sensitive side of her neck, right next to her throat, and he kissed her there with surprising passion and gentleness, especially given the current mood of the situation. Her breath caught and she squeezed her eyes closed. She was _not_ going to give him the satisfaction. "…And touch you…" he continued while putting all his weight against his left hip, making sure to keep her where she was, but opening up a little space between them to sneak his hand between her thighs and caress her firmly. She ground her teeth. "…I could even make you like it. _Really_ like it. But the way I see it, it would be much more satisfying if I could get you to admit that you _want_ it because that, I can't physically force you to do." He finished his explanation with a matter of fact glance at her. "At least, not directly." He smiled a mischievous, power-hungry smile that made Cameron's blood run hot and her cheeks flush.

Her skin burned where he'd kissed her and she still felt the tingle running through her nerves, which had ignited all at once when he'd touched her and she wanted this, oh god she wanted it, this was almost exactly the way it happened in her mind every time she played it out but now that she was faced with it, it wasn't as easy to give up all her power and control as she'd thought it would be. House had been spot on when he'd pointed out that fantasies don't always play out the same way in real life.

He saw the blush rise in her face and he knew he had her, but he wasn't going to let her off that easy, especially since if he knew Cameron – and he felt he did – she'd turn this into the pissing contest he'd planned on it being all along. She'd frustrated the hell out of him for months and taken pleasure in it, and now that he knew he was right on the threshold of consummating all that frustration, she was going to get a taste of her own medicine. She wasn't getting what she wanted until she asked him for it, which he knew would be no easy task for her or she'd have done it by now.

His point of view explained, House leaned inf and kissed her again, not meeting with as much resistance, but also not getting the welcome he felt he deserved. He leaned against her a little harder and the contact started to tempt her into reconsidering her position. The metal behind her was as hard and cold as ice, House's body against her was just as hard but much warmer and more appealing. She slowly parted her lips against his and felt him smile. If she'd had her eyes open, she'd have seen his flash with satisfaction. Kissing him was as hot and delicious as she'd always dreamed it would be. His lips moved against hers, coaxing them open just a little more to accept his tongue. Cameron slid her hands up his chest, finally accepting him fully, wrapping her arms around him and locking one hand at the back of his neck. That, he allowed, and tilted his head to kiss her more deeply, feeling her breathing quicken and her body soften against him.

He broke their kiss to let them both breathe, although she needed it more than he did at this point. "That's the spirit," he encouraged when Cameron finally opened her eyes, forcing herself to reaffirm that this was actually happening, but she still said nothing. She was exactly halfway between refusing to admit how much she wanted this, and giving in entirely. She didn't want to pass up this chance to finally live out her fantasies, but she didn't want to allow House the satisfaction of doing it his way either.

House sunk his hand into her hair at the base of her skull and kissed her with a possessiveness and force he'd held back on too long. He tasted of raw desire and Cameron let herself become drunk on it. He grabbed her hips and pulled her roughly up against him, forcing her to stand on her toes and cling tighter to him, then he bent his head and kissed her again, hard and rough. His mouth devoured hers, his tongue caressing everywhere accessible, promising better things to come if she only agreed to do this on his terms. His hands gripped her ass firmly, holding her against his erection, another reminder of what she could have if she just admitted she wanted him, and it was oh so tempting. If he was as big as he felt through his pants, Cameron mused, it would most definitely be an experience to remember. She kissed him back enthusiastically, her tongue stroking his, biting gently as his lower lip, one hand tangled in his hair and the other anchored firmly over his shoulders, holding him as tight against her as he was holding her.

House allowed one of his hands to stray from her firm, perfect ass, up her ribs, to cup her breast in his hand and tease the nipple to hardness under the firm pressure of his thumb. Cameron moaned into his mouth at the unexpected sensation, but House broke their kiss to look deeply into her face, watching her fight with herself, since she was no longer fighting him. He continued to rub her nipple through her shirt, slipping his hand between her jacket and her blouse, watching Cameron's eyes close in pleasure, then open again but only to avoid his gaze. His fingers were sending a bolt of electricity straight between her thighs and it was all she could do not to reach for him again. Her body wanted him closer, and her skin wanted his touch with nothing between them, but her pride had other ideas.

"Look at me." She pretended not to hear him; she couldn't stand to let him see the desire in her eyes. "I said look at me, Allison". This time he sounded a little annoyed with her reluctance. Slowly she forced her eyes to meet his, knowing she'd drown in them. His hand caressed her breast firmly as he stared her down, his fingers pinched and rolled the hard nipple to a point of aching pleasure. He watched her eyes go from embarrassed and anxious to heavy lidded and cloudy. "Like that, huh?" His voice was a low, sexy whisper. She shifted her weight, trying to take some of the pressure off the aching he was creating in the pit of her stomach, hoping he wouldn't notice but at the same time, knowing he would. "What's the matter? Getting a little uncomfortable?" She averted his gaze again, feeling vulnerable and a little afraid of her own desire.

In one unexpected motion, House took Cameron's arms from around his neck, interlocked his fingers with hers, and using all his weight, pinned her hands against the car on either side of her. He smiled smugly as he whispered in her ear "Fine…don't say anything. I have ways of making you talk." He chuckled slightly, enjoying the power he had over her, knowing that she wanted this so much she could barely stand it and if he just waited long enough, she'd beg for it. He lightly kissed the curve of her ear, so light that she could barely feel it, but firmly enough to send a tingle all the way down that side of her body. His lips moved to the side of her neck, gentle, wet and hot against her skin. She tipped her head to the side, wanting more, her breathing becoming uneven and hard. House bit softly at her skin, making her moan. He continued his slow, torturous, teasing journey to the spot where her neck met her shoulder and bit down hard, making Cameron sob in her throat and her knees buckle.

Still holding her hands firmly and helplessly in his, he kissed her viciously and felt her respond in kind. Apparently she liked a little bit of pain. He'd have never pegged her for the type, but then again he'd never had her in this situation before either. His mind turned over this new piece of information as his tongue ravaged her mouth and she struggled to free her hands. He finally allowed her some air and let go of her hands.

His fingers moved to the buttons of her blouse, shoving her jacket to the side. Cameron's hands reached out instinctively for his shoulders, not wanting to break the contact between them but he grabbed her wrists and forced her hands back where they'd been. "Don't move, and don't touch, or I stop. Understood?" She could only nod, her mind overwhelmed by excitement and anticipation. He made quick work of her buttons and ran his hands flat down her chest, the first skin on skin contact they'd had so far. She shivered against the cool night air and the possessive, dominant touch of House's hands, which stopped on the return trip to cup her breasts. He stared at her hungrily; he always knew she was beautiful, but he had no idea how beautiful. Her breasts were firm and just the right size, they seemed to be made for his hands. Despite being eager for a taste, House touched only the tip of his tongue to hard, pinkish brown bud that just begged to be sucked on. Cameron threw her head back and clenched her fists, wanting more than anything to grab onto House's head and hold his mouth where she wanted to feel it. She silently wished he was still holding her down because she didn't trust herself not to touch him and the last thing she wanted was for him to stop now.

He could resist the temptation no longer and took the hard little nub in his mouth, running his tongue in slow, gentle circles all around it before biting down gently at first, and then repeating the whole process but harder this time. He felt Cameron's whimper reverberate in her chest as he saw her press her palms flat against the car door. House smiled, knowing he was torturing her and that she was using every ounce of control she had not to touch him. That only proved to him how much she wanted this and the thought made him painfully hard. He took his time, though, wanting her to feel the frustration and aching he'd felt for as long as he'd known her, and repeated the same treatment on the other side.

By that time, he knew she was half out of her mind and wanted to see what she'd give up to get what she wanted. He stood up, still teasing her nipple with his thumb, kissed her lightly and asked "What do you want?"

"To touch you." Finally, she was going to start talking to him. Her voice was unbelievably sexy; breathless, desperate, quivering.

"What would you like to touch?" He was going to make her say it, say everything. He wanted to hear everything she'd wanted and fantasized about.

"Everything." It was almost a sigh. "I want your skin against mine, I wanna feel how hard you are." Without taking his eyes away from hers and without saying anything he took her hands softly in his and led them up to his chest, where her fingers started on the buttons of his shirt without hesitation. Having completed their task, they dropped to his hips as Cameron's lips followed the same trail as her hands, making a wet, fiery trail over the muscles of his chest, venturing over to suck on a flat, hard nipple, feeling it tighten in her mouth. She felt House sigh and stood back up, her lips busying themselves on his neck as he guided her hands to the button of his jeans. By this time she was shaking, ever so slightly, and her fingers had lost some of their deftness, but they wanted their prize too badly to give up and eventually got his jeans undone. She shoved her hand inside without grace, just needing to get her hands on him, and gripped him firmly, her palm pressed tight against him in the confines of his pants.

He was amazingly hard and at least as big as she'd guessed he was. She could just touch her fingers around him and he felt more than long enough to reach all the places inside of her that needed to be touched, needed _his_ touch. She stroked him as well as she could and felt him throb in her hand, his hips pressing harder into her palm. She replaced the other arm where it had been around his neck and kissed him at the same time her other hand squeezed tightly around him. His hot, bare skin against hers contrasted against the air around them and the metal against her and felt even hotter. The warmth was welcome and comforting and Cameron pressed closer to him, having to remove the hand that was exploring what she realized she'd do just about anything to have. House groaned into her throat at the loss and decided it was time to stop this foreplay and get down to what they both wanted.

He took Cameron roughly by the shoulders and turned her around, pressing her chest-first against the car and himself behind her just as firmly. His hands practically tore the button off her pants and the back of his hand forced the zipper down on its own journey south. He stopped just above the waistband of her panties and growled into her ear "You nice and wet for me, baby?" There was something about the word 'baby' and especially the way he said it that made her weak. He nipped gently at her earlobe. His fingers walked down another half inch and she tried to shift to a better position to give him more space but deep down she knew that wasn't what he really wanted. The more she talked to him, the more it turned him on, and the more he turned her on, so she figured it was worth the sting of a moment's humiliation. She took his wrist and slowly guided his hand the rest of the way. "What do you think? Feel that…feel what you do to me." His fingers gently parted the folds of her skin, seeking the proof of her words. House moaned with satisfaction when he felt his fingers moist with the sticky slickness that confirmed just how much Cameron wanted him.

His other arm slid around her, holding her tightly against him. The connection comforted her; while it was hard for her to look him in the eyes and admit all the things she'd thought about in regards to him, all the things he was making her feel, she still wanted him close.

"So, I take it I'm not the only one that walks around uncomfortable then, am I?" He'd picked up on the connotation of her comment – that this was far from the only time he'd turned her on like this, it was just the only time he had physical proof of it.

"No. Of course not."

"Then talk to me. Tell me what it is that turns you on so much." His fingers on her sex pressed a little firmer, still not moving, but letting her know what her reward would be if she gave him what he wanted. She moaned softly and relaxed her legs a little bit, trying to get more pressure but he moved his hand away to rest on her pubic bone. "C'mon…you know the rules by now. Tell me a story first."

He just wasn't going to make this easy. By the time everything was said and done, she had the feeling she'd have no secrets from him anymore. "I love your hands. I love to watch you write, to watch you in surgery. You come off so rough, but your hands look so gentle and skilled. I couldn't watch you do anything without wondering what your touch would feel like."

"That's it…good." His breath was hot in her ear. His hand slid back down where it had been. She'd done well. He knew this wasn't easy for her, which was part of what turned him on so much. She was willing to fight her own desires and her own inhibitions to have him. The power was intoxicating. He rubbed his first and middle fingers against her entrance, not pressing forward at all, just teasing her and feeling her swell and get wetter under his touch. She leaned back against him and sighed.

"What?"

"Feels good."

"Does it feel like you thought it would?"

"Yeah…actually. I always figured you'd...aaahhh…like to tease, like to be in control." It was getting easier. House's fingers distracted her from her inhibitions, but she was also finding that she liked telling him all the things she'd thought about, liked letting him know how much she wanted him. He pressed his fingers against her and felt her flesh yield to the intrusion. He slipped his fingers just barely inside her to the first knuckle. He was so hard it hurt, and feeling her press against him and squirm wasn't helping matters any, but he wanted to see what else he could make her tell him before he couldn't stand it anymore himself. He wriggled his fingers slightly, making Cameron moan and her muscles clench, trying to pull his fingers in deeper.

"Want more, don't you?"

"Yeah…oh god yes." She couldn't take it. She was so close to what she wanted and needed, but so far away.

"You know how to get it, Allison."

"Ask me."

She was an open book now, she'd tell him anything, do anything to have him. All the frustration on his part has been worth it to have this. "Tell me one of your fantasies about me."

She didn't think she could do it. Not this…this was too intimate. "House…please." He wanted in to not only her body, but her innermost thoughts, and no matter how much she wanted him, she didn't see how she could let him that close.

"Well, you don't _have_ to tell me, of course. But it's the only way to get what you want." He rocked his hips against her, teasing himself with the little bit of friction the motion provided as well as teasing her. "You still want this, don't you?"

"Yeah…but…"

"Then tell me. Tell me and you can have it. It won't be just a fantasy anymore."

To encourage her, he slipped his fingers the rest of the way inside of her. She gasped at the sudden intrusion, but as he found a slow, teasing rhythm, her body started to move with him. He was driving her crazy, not giving her enough to take her over the edge, but just enough to pour enough fuel on her passion to break what remained of her pride.

"I've always wondered if you have a stolen copy of my key too. I wouldn't hear the key turn in the lock, just feel my bed move as you'd sit down. I wouldn't be scared, I'd know it was you. I know the smell of your cologne, and I know you'd just feel familiar to me." He turned his hand over inside of her, the pads of his fingers finding the ridged, spongy spot a few inches inside her body and pressing on it. She bucked her hips forward, trying to get him to press harder, but he wanted her to keep talking, so he was careful not to push her too far. "I'd start to ask what you were doing in my apartment, but you'd kiss me hard and grab my wrists before I could get the question out. You'd throw the covers back, push up my nightgown and without taking off any of your clothes, you'd take me quick and rough, and without saying a word you'd watch me fall back asleep and then let yourself out. The next day I'd never be quite sure if it was a dream or if it really happened."

"Good girl," he purred in her ear. Under ordinary circumstances, Cameron would have never let a man talk to her the way House was, but these obviously weren't ordinary circumstances and House was no ordinary man. She could tell by the tone of his voice and the hardness pressed against her ass that sure, he wanted to humiliate her, but knowing how much she wanted him turned him on like crazy too. "But you'd know if it was real or not…I'd make sure I left you nice and sore." Cameron whimpered deep in her throat as his fingers slid all the way inside of her. House snorted at her reaction. "Would you like that? You want me to make it hurt, don't you?"

Cameron blushed. Now she truly had no secrets. She wanted the pain. She wanted to be shown who she belonged to. She nodded, unable to say it. Of course she knew that wasn't good enough for him. "Say it baby. Tell me how you want it."

"I want you to make it hurt. I want you to make me yours. Completely."

House's arm around her held tighter as he undid enough of both of their clothes to make the act possible without either of them freezing to death in the process. "I think that can be arranged." He grabbed her hips, bending her forward slightly and then pushed into her roughly, all at once, with no tenderness. She cried out, he was in painfully deep, but she grabbed onto his arm holding her and pushed back against him anyway. "That what you had in mind?"

"Ooohhh….yeah." He pulled back and thrust forward again, slowly out and roughly in, hitting the patch of engorged tissue his fingers had found earlier on each stroke, turning each thrust into two thirds pleasure and one third pain and soon, Cameron couldn't tell the difference between the two any more. He was right about one thing, though, she was going to be sore. It has been months since she'd last had sex, he was thicker than average, and with as rough as he was being with her she'd remember this for a few days, at least. She smiled at the thought of flashing back to this every time she sat down, of him knowing it and reveling in it too, it would be their secret.

She reached out her free hand to steady herself against the car as he thrust harder and deeper into her, heading toward his own release. He wanted her to meet him there, so he lowered his head and bit a tiny, sharp trail down the back of her neck, thinking she'd have to wear her hair down for a while to cover the marks for sure. When he marked his territory, he didn't do it half way. She pushed back against him one final time, forcing him in deeper than should have been humanly possible, triggering the release for both of them. He didn't relax his grip on her, just rested his head in the crook of her shoulder as they both caught their breath. "You OK?" He wasn't used to being that rough and reckless with a woman, even one who wanted it.

"Yeah. I'm gonna feel this tomorrow, though." She smiled a lazy, satisfied smile.

"Good?"

Cameron rolled her eyes and started to straighten her clothes. House put a hand under her chin, gently lifting her eyes to his, looking at her expectantly, questioningly. She smirked. He wanted her to say it. "Fantastic. Thank you."

"So, are you going to tease me anymore?"

"If this is what I get, maybe." She kissed him softly on the lips and let her hands linger on his arms before getting into her car. "Goodnight, House. Or good morning. Or whatever it is. It's good though."

She shut her car door and reached over to put her purse on the passenger side when House tapped on her window. She rolled it down, and turned to see him holding his key ring, and between his fingers a shiny gold key. "Sweet dreams." He smiled mischievously and walked toward the elevator.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here, I wrote it. Happy now? Hope this holds all you hormonal, insatiable folks over for a while. There may or may not be a part 3 if my depraved daydreams can come up with something worthy.

**2**

Almost two weeks had passed without any mention of the encounter in the parking garage. House was acting more detached than was normal even for him, making no jokes or mention of it whatsoever. Cameron acted normally as well, but inside she was rapidly losing cohesion. She'd developed a craving for House like she'd craved nothing and no one else in her entire life, wanting him at all hours and everywhere. It was worse than it had been before she'd had him, or rather until he'd had her, and she didn't think that was even possible. The desire consumed her, sometimes even waking her from sleep. Having told House one of her favorite fantasies about him, she hoped/half expected him to be sitting next to her on the bed one of those nights just to prove to her that he'd do it, but it hadn't happened and she'd given up hope that it would, or that she'd ever have him again. That thought drove her crazy. She couldn't get her mind around touching, tasting, feeling him once and then never again. If that was how it was going to be, she wished it had never happened. Then she wouldn't know for sure what she was missing out on. She had even seriously considered searching medical texts to see if lust could possibly be fatal. It drove her almost crazier that House appeared totally unaffected. She figured it stood to reason that she'd be half out her mind, unable to work, run, eat, drink, go out, shower, sleep, get dressed or do _anything_ without thinking of him, and he had purged the incident from his memory.

House wanted to leave her wanting more, but he had to find a careful balance between letting her have her fill and giving her so little that she gave up and moved on. She was suffering and he knew it. He also knew that she'd suffer in silence, but he could tell by her irritability of late, and her occasional lack of coordination which seemed to happen only in his presence that she was nearing her breaking point.

He was sober except for Vicodin, which was to say that he was sober. Normally by this hour of the night, he'd have most of a bottle of bourbon in him, but tonight he knew that having his senses sharp was important, and there certainly wasn't anything he wanted to numb himself from experiencing either. There were advantages to being mostly nocturnal, and this was one of them. He was counting on Cameron's ability to sleep which he knew was tenuous at best in her current state of mind, but assuming she actually managed to pass out for a few hours, he was going to be golden. At 2:30 in the morning, he threw on an extra splash of cologne just to put her to the test, hopped on his motorbike and crossed town, parking half a block down from her apartment building so that the noise of the engine wouldn't wake her prematurely.

By the time he got to her door, he was already hard as diamond. Over the last couple of weeks, he'd felt a real taste for this rise up in him. He'd always been a control freak, that went without saying, but it wasn't just the control that turned him on. It was the rawness, the desire, how all the games and everything else surrounding men and women was stripped away, and all that was left was Cameron's desire for him and her trust that he would give her what she needed. He had the power to make her feel almost anything, make her do almost anything, she wanted him that much. At the same time, he also knew he couldn't abuse that power or it would be gone, so it served them both well for him to not be an ass about this one thing. He was sure Cameron wondered where the jokes and snide remarks were, and he wondered how long it would be before she figured it out, if she ever did.

House turned the key in the lock slowly, careful not to make the deadbolt snap as it housed itself back in the door frame. His soft soled shoes made little noise on the floor, and he made sure not to lean too heavily on his cane. In this small apartment, only one room could be the bedroom and he quickly found which one it was. He stood in the doorway for a moment, making sure she was really asleep and hadn't woken up or heard him come in and was faking. Five minutes must have passed during which he simply stood there, watching, barely moving or breathing until he was satisfied that so far, he hadn't been detected. He wanted this almost as much as she did, if not more. She must be starved for him by now, that he knew, her body aching and primed for his touch, her nerves anticipating this moment for weeks but having given up hope that it was coming, which would make it all the more welcome. It had been torture for him to wait this long, but he knew her response to him would make it worthwhile.

He leaned his cane against the door frame and closed the remaining three steps between where he stood and where Cameron peacefully and obliviously slept. With care and stealth that surprised even himself, House sat down on the bed on the side she slept on. She stirred slightly, rolled over onto her back and stilled for a few moments. Just when he thought he'd have to be more forceful in his attempt to get her attention, her eyes opened half way. She didn't speak, didn't gasp, didn't startle; she expressed no reaction at all. Out of pure desire and instinct, she simply reached for him, hooking her hand behind his arm, pulling him toward her. He was amazed. She really was that attuned to him that her subconscious had recognized his scent, his presence, and awakened her without fear or question. Her reaction was so automatic he couldn't be totally sure she was fully awake, but he did know that he'd wordlessly called her bluff on this one and lost. He also knew that he was the only man in the world to which she'd respond like this. Anyone else would get fear, questions, or at least surprise. But not House. Him, she reached for as if he had always been there, like him showing up in her bedroom in the middle of the night was the most commonplace thing in her world.

Leaning over her on his elbow, he kissed her until she was breathless. There was no teasing, no preliminaries, no pretense. Her hands slid under his leather jacket, clutching at his shoulders, raking at his back, finally finding purchase in a handful of his shirt and holding on. He shifted his weight, pulling Cameron's blanket back and then putting his left knee first on the bed between her legs, then his right. She sighed, the weight of his body soothing her fears that she'd never be able to touch him again, the solid heat of him flowing through her as they both unconsciously found the position that they fit together best.

House held back nothing. He was rough, urgent – Cameron hadn't been the only one suffering. His teeth scraped her neck as he took her breast in his hand, firmly squeezing, pinching, teasing, turning pleasure to pain and then back again. She moaned her approval at the insistence of his touch and ground against him, just needing him inside her and not caring about anything else. The darkness and silence intensified everything. Her eyes were wide open but she could see nothing but shadow and could only feel and hear and smell. She'd know his scent, his touch, and the way he moved anywhere, but without any light or sound to intrude his hands felt hotter and she was more sensitive to his touch, the scent of leather mixed with his cologne mixed with the ghost of his soap and his own personal scent mingled and assailed her senses and she felt like she was taking him into her with every breath.

The way he was touching her turned her on unbelievably. There was no tenderness in his hands, just an intensity that she hadn't before known House was capable of. He'd always been so measured and controlled, even a couple weeks ago he had managed to stuff down his own needs and his own desire to get what he wanted from her, but tonight the mood was completely different. His hand moved away from her breast, down her side and under her nightshirt, pushing it up roughly as his hand settled between her thighs. Instead of teasing and caressing, his fingers only tested. He hadn't given her much time between a dead sleep and now for her body to catch up with what was happening, and he wanted to make sure she was ready. Cameron had other ideas, needing more of his touch, just wanting him inside her somewhere and somehow. She reached down to meet his hand and held onto his wrist, trying to get him to give her some relief, something and to give it to her _now_. Remembering what she'd said and needing to remind her who was in charge, he turned his hand over, catching her wrist in it and pinning it above her head. He used his other hand to cause its mate to join it, holding both of her slender wrists in one hand and using the other to unbutton his pants.

He steadied himself mostly on his good leg and the elbow of the arm that held Cameron's wrists and took himself in his hand, leaning forward. Cameron arched up to meet him, her body aching for him to take her, but where she expected one hard, long thrust he only rubbed himself against her. She shifted her hips, trying to slide down and force him inside her, but his tight grip on her hands prevented that. He teased her without mercy, pleasuring himself by rubbing his sensitive head between her lips, enjoying the friction and wetness he felt in response. Cameron couldn't stand it. She could hear House's breathing deepen and become less and less even, felt his heart slam in his chest where their bodies were in contact, saw his eyes closed in pleasure and concentration, enjoying the sensations her body gave him but it wasn't enough for her, she needed more than this, needed the penetration and possession he was denying her, she needed to feel what he felt. She twisted her wrists in his hands, thinking if she could just touch him, guide him inside her, touch herself, anything for some pleasure and some relief – but he only held her tighter. She writhed and squirmed under him, trying at very least to find a spot where his teasing would give her what she needed too but he wouldn't allow that either. She was certain, absolutely sure that she was going to lose her mind if he didn't take her now, right now. She didn't even think it was possible to literally _need_ it this badly.

She whimpered and moaned desperately and arched her hips, nearly sobbing out of need and frustration, and it was the hottest damn thing House had ever heard. Without shifting position he shoved his entire length into her and listened to her groan in relief and appreciation. She felt her entire body surrender to him, knowing that this was exactly what she needed, _he_ was exactly what she needed, that his body was the only thing in the world that would satisfy her completely and take the edge off the desire, at least for a while.

He'd teased her so relentlessly and she was so wet and aroused he knew he could be as rough with her as he wanted, thrust as hard as his body wanted him to and not hurt her – at least not in a lasting, unfavorable way. The last couple weeks on top of the last few minutes had made him insatiably turned on, being in her too deep still wasn't deep enough and his hardest strokes still weren't hard enough. He thrust into her until he hit bottom and then tried to push further still, knowing if she wasn't so starved and needy she'd be screaming in pain, instead she just moaned deep in her throat and rolled her hips forward, wanting the same thing he wanted, trying to get him in deeper than was physically possible. House's leg was going to be killing him in very short order and Cameron should consider herself lucky to be able to walk the next day but none of that mattered to either of them now, now was nothing but adrenaline and desire and possession.

Cameron had never felt anything so good in her life. House was using his free hand to balance himself and the other held her wrists in a grip so tight she'd be wearing long sleeves for the next couple of days, but being deprived of the ability to touch and be touched just intensified the sensation of him moving inside of her. She'd never been the submissive type before, never wanted to be before House, but the feeling of helplessness and being taken out of primal desire sent a rush through her body that she knew she wouldn't be able to live without from this point on. And the pain – oh god how she loved the delicious pain of his deepest strokes, just the thought that he was in as deep as her body would allow, no, deeper than her body _should_ have allowed drove her insane with pleasure and desire. She'd also never been the type to like it rough before this either, but this turned her on more than anything else possibly could have and made her feel alive in a way no amount of pleasure had ever done before. She tried forcing him in deeper, seeing how much she could make her body take for him, and even if she didn't like it so much she still would have done it. She didn't want to deny him anything, her body belonged completely to him and she wanted to make sure he knew it.

She came first, her mind screaming his name but her mouth unable to make a sound, her voice cut off as every muscle in her body clenched and her eardrums bulged, making her a little afraid that she'd actually pass out if she surrendered to the orgasm completely but she didn't have a choice, she was well past the point of no return. House wished then that he could see her face, he wanted to see what she looked like completely lost in pleasure, lost because of him. He felt a pang of regret that he hadn't turned the lights on, but knew at the same time light would have ruined it, that it was partly the darkness that had fueled such passion. He felt her muscles relax around him and resumed the same pace, knowing how sensitive she was now and that it had to be uncomfortable for her, but she didn't move, cry out, or make a sound. He felt a wave of reverence and appreciation take him over; he knew then there was nothing she wouldn't do for him and felt fully the power he had over her. He'd never had a woman give herself to him this completely before. At the moment of release he let her hands go and held her tightly against him, needing her to feel his pleasure, needing her to know that he realized and understood the gravity of this moment.

He held onto her until his heart and his breathing restarted, sure both had stopped. He sat up and buttoned and zipped his pants back up and straightened his shirt and jacket. Cameron rolled over and laid her head on his thigh, and he let her stay there until he was sure she'd fallen back asleep, then cradled her head gently in his hand and guided her back onto the pillow, straightened her nightshirt and covered her back up. He grabbed his cane from the door frame where he'd left it and closed and locked the door as quietly as he'd come in. It wasn't until he got home that he realized neither of them had spoken a word to one another the entire night.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: You people need to stop encouraging me….

**3**

Cameron was sitting on the exam table, her skirt hiked up and her panties flung somewhere in the room, her blouse unbuttoned and her bra having joined her panties, wherever they were. House was sitting in front of her on the stool. Her eyes were riveted on him, watching him take in every detail of her body. She squirmed, feeling exposed and awkward. There was a single-minded intensity in House's eyes and Cameron knew he had a goal in mind and also that nothing she did or said would divert him from it. Her eyes darted around the room nervously, waiting for him to do something, or for a knock on the door from someone wondering what the hell was going on in Exam Room 1.

"Does this make you uncomfortable? Me looking at you?"

"A little." No point in lying to him; she was pretty sure it was obvious anyway.

"See, my dear, men are visual creatures. And since we've been together, we haven't even gotten properly undressed. I just wanted to see if you were as beautiful as I'd always imagined you'd be."

"And?"

"You're more beautiful." His appreciation of her body made her feel even more exposed and self conscious, although she couldn't be sure exactly why. He still hadn't moved.

"What are you gonna do?" She had a feeling he had something else in his mind other than to sit and stare at her.

"What would you like me to do?" He was so calm, even a little detached. His control excited her and made her nervous at the same time.

She knew there was a right answer, that this wasn't simply House asking her what she wanted, but she didn't know what the right answer was, so she tried the truth instead. "I want you to touch me. I need your hands on me."

_Need. Need your hands_. He was so pleased with her right then, he couldn't believe his good fortune. He had a beautiful woman half his age whose body needed him and craved him and only him, who responded to him with such pleasure it made him feel like a god. He knew she'd deny him nothing, she'd let him do to her whatever he chose, however, wherever and whenever he chose to do it. He would have never told her, of course, but at that moment he'd have done anything she asked for, pleasured her in ways she couldn't even think of. "Where should I touch you?"

She knew the right answer to this question, and it also happened to be the truth. "Anywhere you want." Her skin just needed his caress, and his hands promised nothing but pleasure. Anywhere he wanted to put them, anything he wanted to do, she welcomed.

House leaned forward slightly, his hand resting on her thigh, just above the knee. His fingers drew lazy, absent circles on her skin. She licked her lips and shifted her gaze from his eyes to where he was touching her. She loved the way his hand looked on her, his rough, masculine skin contrasting with the smooth creaminess of her flesh, his hands large in comparison with her petite frame. Now it was her eyes that studied the situation, meeting and holding his as he moved his hand further up her leg, slowly, not even an inch at a time, pausing to caress and let the heat of his touch soak into her flesh at each stop. She still had no idea what his ultimate goal was, and the uncertainty and anticipation excited her almost as much as his hand on her.

Scooting the stool forward slightly, he leaned down and kissed the inner thigh of her other leg lightly, brushing his lips and his rough beard against the tender skin, nuzzling the spot his lips had been. She wasn't used to this slow, gentle, teasing treatment from him, and it made it that much harder for her to guess his intentions. She leaned back, arms straight, resting on her palms and tried to relax, knowing that if he wanted something from her, she'd know about it. He bit sharply at the sensitive skin of her leg, making her suck her breath in sharply and instinctively pull her leg away, forcing her legs farther apart. Cameron looked down and saw a red patch forming where he'd just bitten her, smiling to herself and thinking that in addition to having to wear her hair down and wear long sleeves, she'd be in pants for a few days now too. House certainly liked to make sure that no one else could play with his toys; he'd essentially written "Property of Gregory House" all over her body. She knew she should probably be angry, but part of her liked it. She was certain that others had noticed her wearing her hair down, something she rarely did, and maybe they even wondered why she was wearing long sleeves in late Spring, but she and House were the only people that knew why, and it thrilled her. She also liked the reminder of having been with him, seeing the marks he left on her and remembering how they'd gotten there, and wondering where the next ones would be put.

The hand on her thigh was almost at the point where her leg met her body now, House's thumb teasing the juncture of her leg and her torso, his long fingers wrapping around to hold firmly onto her hip. He bit her again, higher up this time, making her squirm and whimper. It hurt, but she liked the way her skin heated in response to the injury. House licked this new wound, kissing the pain out of the angry red mark on her thigh, the moisture cooling it as his mouth left the spot. She also figured she knew then what he had in mind and her pulsed quickened in anticipation.

House's fingers replaced where his tongue had been and he raised his head to look at her again, impossibly close, but now Cameron was too excited to be embarrassed. He could see the wetness glistening off her lips, how her sex had swelled at the thought of what she suspected she was going to get, and he hadn't even touched her yet. He kissed one thigh, then the other, his mouth teasing her straining muscles, feeling her shift on the table and pull herself closer to the edge. His lips played with the short, course hair of her pubic mound and she tensed even more, taking shallow breaths, her whole body humming, waiting for the first soft, sweet lash of his tongue, her mind consumed with how good the heat and moisture was going to feel when he finally took her into his mouth. Her clit hardened and throbbed, almost feeling the firm pressure of his lips sucking it already.

He reached over with the hand on her hip, rubbing his thumb between her lips and dragging it, wet with her moisture over the hard, sensitive swelling that ached under his touch. He was amazed at how turned on she was. He felt the now-familiar rush of power flow through his veins, knowing how much she wanted this, needed it, needed him to give it to her. He kissed her lightly all over, running his tongue over her outer lips, nibbling gently along the stiff tendons of her groin, all the while stroking and squeezing her thighs. She whimpered softly in both pleasure and frustration. His mouth and his hands felt so good, relaxing and arousing at the same time, but her body still needed the release of all that tension she'd built up in her mind and he'd built up in her body.

"C'mon…do it…please" she whispered as she ran her hand softly through his hair.

He kissed her swiftly between her hairline and her belly button and captured her eyes with his. He already knew he was going to give it to her and give it to her good, but he didn't want her to get used to getting what she wanted so easily. She needed to remember who called the shots, who gave her the pleasure she needed so much. "Beg me for it, baby. And the better you beg, the better you'll get it."

"I need to feel your lips and your tongue. I wanna come in your hot mouth…make me come for you. I need it so bad. Lick me, suck me…do it Greg…please."

Throwing in his name had been a fantastic touch, and if he hadn't wanted to drive her crazy before, he did then. She was getting good at this, quickly learning that he loved it when she submitted and surrendered to him and loved it when she talked dirty to him, and if she gave him what he wanted he could make her scream in pleasure. And that's exactly what he set out to do. He slid his tongue flat over her, slowly, wanting to get her used to the sensation first. The groans that greeted his first licks told him that it had been too long since anyone had done this to her. He stiffened his tongue and licked up the length of her clit and felt her gasp and jerk her hips back. She was crazy sensitive and even that much pressure was too much for her. He backed off a little and repeated the same motion again, this time barely touching her, in fact he was touching her so lightly he wasn't sure she'd feel it at all. She felt it though, playing her fingers through is hair and pulling him closer. He started a slow, steady rhythm up and down her swollen length and felt her thighs tense under his hands. Every exhale was a soft, ragged moan punctuated by one syllable words like "more" and "good" and "yes" and he even thought he heard "oh god Greg" at one point. He looked up at her to see her eyes screwed shut, her whole face tensed up in ecstasy. He could only imagine how good it must feel to her, especially after having been deprived of the intense and precise stimulation of the tongue of a man who knew what he was doing for as long as she so obviously had been, and he knew now how to get her off when she was ready.

But that time wasn't now. House wanted her to relax and enjoy this, to feel and appreciate all the sensations his talented mouth could give her. He could make her come easily, but he wanted her to need this and crave it like she craved his touch and the feel of him deep inside her. He wanted her to be as addicted to him as he was getting to this and her. He needed to make her feel better than she'd ever felt before. He licked up her entire sex again, swallowing the steady stream of wetness from her entrance and slid his tongue inside her. She startled at the feeling at first but then whimpered and relaxed, rocking her hips subtly in time with him. His tongue felt so different from his fingers, softer and warmer and touching places inside of her in ways that she'd never been touched before. She curled her fingers into his hair as well as she could and gasped out "God…oh god that's…that's _so_ good." House felt dizzy and drunk off of the pleasure he was giving her. He felt like he could do this all day and wanted to touch her everywhere to see what sounds he could get her to make and what phrases of appreciation and pleasure he could get her to moan out.

He reluctantly withdrew his tongue, catching the sweet wetness that followed in his mouth and swallowing. He kissed her then like he kissed her mouth, sucking and probing, letting his teeth gently scrape against her ultra-sensitive skin, making her cry out softly and buck her hips into his eager mouth. He sucked gently on her clit, careful not to overstimulate her, and felt her cradle his head in her hand and sigh. He sucked a little harder, seeing how much she could take, and thought for a second that she might hyperventilate with the way she was breathing. It could have been minutes or hours that he sucked and teased and pleasured her, loving the way she moved and moaned and ran her fingers through his hair. He felt her skin under his hands slightly moist from perspiration, felt her arms start to shake and lose their strength, and although he didn't want to stop he knew he had to; she couldn't take much more, and they'd been in the room too long already.

He replaced his tongue with the gentle stoking of his fingers, wanting to keep her at her fever pitch of arousal and whispered "Open your eyes." It was no easy task for her, but she managed to lift her eyelids half way and looked at him, silently begging him for release. "Wanna come now?"

"Yes…oh god yes…may I? Please?" House's heart almost stopped for the fourth time in his life. She _was_ getting good at this. Almost _too_ good.

"Don't scream," he whispered firmly, and started to run his tongue almost imperceptibly lightly up and down her clit like he had been before. Cameron gasped and dug her nails into his shoulder, rocking her hips against him. He could feel her throb and her muscles contract rhythmically in his mouth. She lifted her hips off the table and told him "Don't stop…never stop…please…oh….aaaahhhh," her mouth contorted in a silent scream. He gently broke his contact with her as the spasms subsided, then stood and gently, affectionately straightened her clothes for her. She looked at him with a contended, pleasure sedated stare, blinked, smiled and said "Wow…you're…really good at that." She chuckled slightly, coming back to earth slowly. "_Really_ good." He let her rest for a few minutes, his hands on her hips, her laying her head on his shoulder, needing to be connected to him for just a little while longer.

She leaned back and stared at him with a renewed hunger in her eyes, her hands reaching out for his hips, stroking his steel hard erection through his pants. "My turn…I wanna make you feel like that."

"Later. Tonight. We have to get out of here."

"No…I wanna…" Her hands battled his, which weren't really fighting, to get his belt unbuckled. She popped the button on his pants, and –

House's alarm startled him awake. 9:19, blared the clock on his nightstand. Confused and not sure which reality he was in, he rolled over onto his stomach and slapped it into silence, groaning, sorely disappointed that the morning's events had been just a dream. His leg ached and it wasn't the only thing, he was so hard he felt like if he didn't come now, he was going to explode. He also knew it wouldn't help much, it never did, but at least some of the physical pressure would be dealt with. He rolled onto his back and brought himself off hard with a few quick strokes of his hand, cleaned up with a tissue, popped a couple of Vicodin and headed into the shower thinking "You're really something House, starting your day nearly having a wet dream like a teenager, jerking off and eating painkillers." There was only one thing that was going to make him feel better, and he called her as soon as he got into work.

"Cameron. Clinic. Fifteen minutes."

"I can't, I've got to –"

"You've got to come down to the clinic in 15 minutes. That's what you've got to do. I'm not asking."

She knew better than to protest, heading down the elevator 10 minutes later. She stopped at the front desk and asked Brenda "Have you seen Dr. House? He called just a bit ago and said he needed my help with a patient."

"Yeah, he's in Exam Room 1. He told me you'd be stopping down."

She opened the door and saw the lust and fire in his eyes immediately. He beckoned her over, lifting her up onto the table in one smooth motion, surprising her with his strength. His hands went straight for the buttons of her blouse and he whispered in her ear "I had the best dream about you this morning." She stared at him in shock, she'd never seen him this…desperate…before. He slipped her blouse down her arms and reached around her to unhook her bra. "Problem is, it was just a dream." She'd worn a skirt today, too. It was like she'd read his mind. "I came in my hand thinking about you when I woke up." He hiked her skirt above her knees. "Tonight, I'm gonna come down your throat." His hands went to the waistband of her panties and she lifted her hips. "But first, my dream is going to become reality." He sat down on the stool in front of her, staring at her, starving. He leaned over her thighs, and her mind finally caught up to what was happening. "And Cameron?" She looked down at him, dazed. "Don't scream." His teeth found the sensitive, milky skin of her inner thigh.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here's the recipe for this little piece of prose: spike a 102 degree fever, take 2 Vicodin, put on Radiohead's "Black Star" and then fall asleep. Yes, kiddies, this disturbing, thick, dark piece came to me partly in a fevered delirium. I hope it leaves you in a similar condition. **

**4**

His eyes look empty even in the half-light from the wall sconce. She expects them to be the only luminous thing in the room, but instead they only absorb the light and reflect none of it back, like a black hole that no amount of light could ever convince to shine. She smells bourbon and expensive cigars and doesn't recognize the song on the stereo. It's something raw and sad at the same time, violent and beautiful, mournful and angry. Curiosity wells up in her, followed by trepidation and then its distant cousin, reverence. This is his private self, the essence of all that he is and is not, all that he was and will never be again. She's just stepped into the deep of his world, the part everyone knows but no one sees. No one but her, tonight, unannounced and as yet, unreceived.

She knows he knows that she is there. She senses that just as he senses her, even though his eyes never move from the ceiling and whatever he sees in his mind or is trying to hide from it. His arms are stretched out over the back of the couch. A barely perceptible turn of his hand beckons her over and she stands in front of him. His fingers curl roughly, demandingly around the bones of her hips. She doesn't recoil. He grips tighter, trying to get her to react. His hands are strong, dry and warm, his skin flushed from the alcohol.

"You like this. You like when I hurt you." There's something dark and distant in his voice. Tighter still. He wraps his arms around her hips, running his nails roughly down her back, leaving deep red strands behind, just this side of bleeding. He knows just how much harder he'd have to press to break her skin. She doesn't have to answer. Her knees protest against her weight and she knows he feels it.

"Why? Why do you need this?" Who in their right mind wants to be hurt: that was what he was really asking. He hopes her answer justifies the obvious, converse question: who in their right mind wants to hurt another? But he needs it as much as she does. Maybe neither of them are in their right minds.

He never asks why and this doesn't go unnoticed. He cares only about the end result, the reasons never matter, have never mattered before and she knows, deep down, that they don't matter now. He doesn't really care why she needs this, needs him out of all the able bodied and beautiful men in the world to give it to her. He cares about his own reasons but he can't ask the question for himself. "It makes me feel alive. Makes everything seem real. It forces me back into my own body. I want to see how much I can take." _For you_. She doesn't say that part.

"Then you don't understand what pain is." He wants this comment to scare her, just a little, and he knows she wants to be afraid. It adds another element to this for her, but it's also true. She's trying to get into her body while he tries to get out of his own. Ironic, and that's probably why it works. It makes them both damaged, both unable to feel without the other and he hopes for a second of a second that this is what makes it alright. He really wants it to be alright. _He_ wants to be alright. He wants to see her hurt and like it and think that maybe the pain isn't so bad after all, that it's natural and normal and maybe even good and he'll keep doing this until he can make himself, make both of them believe it. He knows that she wants out too, she just wants out of her mind instead of out her body and he's glad he knows it because he knows that she doesn't. This is what makes her trust him.

He reaches for the buttons of her blouse and that's when she knows he isn't drunk, at least not from the alcohol. His hands are delicate and sure and she watches him in the heavy light of the apartment. She doesn't touch him, not yet, but she wants to. She always wants to. Only with her hands on him can she feel his vitality. There's something different about him tonight, a subterranean melancholy that before tonight only lurked below the surface of him. She knows he won't hurt her but she also knows he will, that he wants to, and it scares her a little. She needs it too much to let the fear take over.

Her blouse and her bra fall from her shoulders and he stares at her, his eyes consumed by a liquid intensity and she knows he's planning what to do next. He pulls her toward him so she's straddling his legs and kisses her. His breathing is slow and even. He's in perfect control and he tastes of liquor and darkness and she feels exposed with her bare chest pressed against the rough cloth of his suit coat that he didn't even take off when he got home at least three hours ago. His lips move to the tender, sensitive spot below her ear, that little dent where there's no muscles, no tendons, just soft, sensitive, ripe nerves and his tongue laves her skin in a serpentine way. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and goes weak, letting her weight sink down against him. His teeth graze her skin and she stiffens, waiting for it, hoping for it, and he scrapes a slow trail down the side of her neck that makes her shiver and ends back at that sensitive place she likes to feel his tongue, where he barely has to say anything at all and it reaches her ear, like a child whispers a secret he's embarrassed to speak aloud. "All you have to say is 'stop', OK?" She nods. And knows she won't say it, knows it because he'll never make her need to say it.

He leans forward and finally slips his coat off, letting it pool behind him and she's thankful for the almost-contact. This way, at least, she can feel his heat and the outline of his muscles and bones through his shirt. She moves her hands over him, letting them rest on his biceps, her fingers just breaching the sleeves of his t-shirt and his skin feels so real, so hot, he feels so _good _and she leans forward to kiss him again but he pushes her away, his hand solid and firm against the straightness of her upper chest. His thumb traces her collarbone as he drags his fingers along her skin, scratching but lighter this time and when his fingers meet he runs his knuckles down her chest, between her breasts, his wrist skimming her nipple on the journey, hardening it instantly.

His hands hold her hips firmly as his mouth finds what his touch created and his tongue ignites the point where their bodies nearly meet, but he won't let her move against him. His tongue strokes and circles her nipple, his teeth rake at the satin flesh and she has to have him, has to have him closer, her body knows what it needs and it needs him. She squirms in his grip, wanting to close that last torturous inch between them, relax her hips against his, feel the response and the need of his body answering her own. He won't allow it and nips harder at the vulnerable skin between his teeth in warning. She doesn't care, in fact she purposely ignores him, whimpers and presses down harder and feels his fingers dig into her bones with a strength she didn't know he possessed. Now she wants to see how strong and willful he really is so she pushes again, still needing more but not caring what she gets or how she gets it anymore, she wants to get under his skin, if he's going to push her to the edge she's going to make him do it, goad the part of him that doesn't want to admit he wants this out until he can't control it any more. His teeth close on the morsel of flesh in his mouth, just to the side of her nipple and she thinks _he wouldn't do it, he wouldn't _and then she wants to try to make him, just to see if he would and because more than a little of her wants him to. She wants to see if she can push him that far, she wants to see if she'll let her push him that far, and her body just wants it even though her mind knows it shouldn't. Right now, though, she doesn't care about should and shouldn't.

His fingers are embedded so deeply into her hips they're turning white with the strain and she twists with all her might and whimpers, needing whatever he's going to do just so it's more than this. He moans in his throat, not letting go of his piece of flesh and it's primal, ancient and so fucking hot, he's so close to it now. His nails will leave crescent shaped welts in her flesh for nearly a week after this but he can't feel his hands anymore, his mind isn't on his hands, he's hot and frustrated and aroused and focused, so much that he's nearly angry, crazy with it, and she does it again god damn it, hasn't she learned anything? She's doing this on purpose, he knows that, but what he isn't sure of is whether or not she knows that he isn't fucking around, not tonight, and he hopes she does because he's sure going to prove it to her, whether she really wants it or not.

His teeth break the last barrier that existed between them, just enough so the faint taste of iron mixes with the taste of bourbon and flesh and lust on his tongue and it scares him but the fear turns to awe and intoxication as he feels her hands don't push him away, her mouth doesn't say stop, instead her fingers weave themselves in his hair and she moans in pain, pleasure, release, something inside her can finally let go and then he's glad he did it. His tongue soothes until there's no more to be had. Later he'll remember this as the most intimate moment of his life but right now he lets her kiss him again and feels her startle when she encounters the taste on his lips, the proof, even though she knew it would be there. It doesn't' stop her from kissing him deeper though, in fact it spurs her on and she trusts him completely now, wants him completely in a way there aren't words for.

It's like they're dancing now, she pulls away from him and kneels down in front of him, of course it's demeaning in this position and that's why she's doing it, she doesn't even want him to have to ask her. She stares up at his eyes and he looks analytically down at her, watching her unbuckle his belt and pop the button and lower the zipper and then she has him in her hand. She doesn't think she's ever felt him this hard before, knows she hasn't. He gets off on hurting her and the thought turns her on even more. His skin is so hot her mouth feels cool around him at first. He won't let her tease, pressing the palm of his hand against her silken hair and pushing, slowly but firmly. He clenches his jaw and hears his teeth scrape together inside his head. "_That's it. Take it all_." She gags slightly and pauses, knowing she can do it, knowing that she doesn't have a choice even though she knows she has a choice. She shifts her position and straightens her airway, takes a deep breath in and then he's deeper down her throat than she ever thought possible. She swallows to keep from gagging again and the contraction of her throat squeezes him and he bucks his hips, knowing it'll force him in uncomfortably deep and that's why he does it. Her throat strains and her eyes water and she loves it and she takes him down another fraction of an inch just to prove it to him.

He relaxes the pressure of his hand and lets her lick and suck him on the up stroke and it feels good, but not as good as when he's buried in the tight heat of her throat. She takes a breath and swallows him again, easier this time, forcing her body to expect it. She opens her throat and again her eyes tear up and complain but his moans are worth it. She doesn't let him slide all the way out now and doesn't really need to with the way he's rocking his hips and fucking her throat. She runs her nails up his thighs, purposely going over too far on the right, tracing the edge where soft, scalding skin turns to angry scar and he tenses, forcing her head down on him again to distract himself. She knows she's going to hurt tomorrow, her jaw is going to scream and her throat is going to sting. She'll probably have a sore spot on her head where he has a handful of her hair but she doesn't worry about that now. Now there's only his taste and the sound of the music and his pleasure even though she doesn't know which is which and that's all that matters to her.

He slips past her tonsils again and she uses the back of her tongue to stroke that special sensitive spot on the way down and his groan sounds almost other-worldly. He's throbbing in her mouth and so hard she fears she might break her teeth and she does it again on the next stroke. _I'd have never thought from – oh god __**yes**__ – looking at you that you'd be able to – __**fuck**__ – take it this good_. She knows that's high praise coming from a man who's probably been sucked off by every hooker on the Jersey shore. He grinds his hips into her mouth, down her throat, trying to hold back and trying to get off at the same time. Her mouth is heaven and it's made even better watching her struggle to take him as deep as he wants to be despite wanting to cry and gag at the same time and managing to do it anyway. He wants to come down her throat, watch her swallow every last drop but he wants to take her too, rough and fast and hard, he wants to leave marks and bruises and hear her scream from the onslaught of sensations.

He urges her mouth off of him and she knows immediately what he wants and how it's going to be. She kicks her heels off, stands and shimmies off her pants and underwear, and waits. He turns her roughly around, her back to him as his clothes join hers on the floor, the whole time considering leaving them on to just have her wet and tight around him _now_, but knowing it's better when he can feel her skin against his, can feel her body slicked with sweat, every shudder and shock with nothing between them. He stands and presses himself against her from behind, bracing his arms against the coffee table for support and she bends over, instinctively and impatiently. It's going to hurt unbelievably, exquisitely in this position because he's going to be able to thrust as hard and as deep as he wants to and he's not going to be at all gentle and she can't wait for it.

His hand caresses her hip possessively and she can feel the raw spots and bruises his fingers left and smiles, feels his hips against hers and wonders what the fuck he's waiting for, _do it_ already and the words are out her mouth before she even realizes it. _Fuck me, Greg. I need you._ He thinks he'll never get used to hearing that, hearing her say that, knowing what it means, that he can give her something no other man has ever been able to, something she needs that completes her and takes her deeper pain away. He steadies himself with one hand on the table and takes himself in the other, feels her brace and clench in anticipation and then he slams himself inside of her, without pretense or tenderness or mercy, tearing surprised flesh slightly at the intrusion and knocking the wind from her as he announces his presence to her cervix with authority. Again she doesn't pull away but instead pushes back, accepting and he knows she's fine, knows she can take whatever he dishes out and he pulls back and thrusts harder this time, she screams and he feels her back break out in a thin sweat where his chest is pressed against her. She shoves herself back against him, not wanting him to stop, too hard isn't hard enough, she wants to be used, hurt, satisfied, cherished and to be able to feel nothing but this. His fingers find her nipple and pinch, roll, tease, giving her pure pleasure mixed with the elegant pain of his hard, selfish strokes and she's close already, he can feel it in the way she's squeezing him inside of her, rhythmically.

He thrusts harder, past the resistance he feels at the end of every stroke, having no idea how badly it must hurt and more than a little surprised she can take it, want it, beg him for more, and he pinches the nipple between his fingers sharply, squeezing the firm flesh as hard as he can and she comes with a bone crushing intensity in a flood of pleasure and agony. He forces himself to hold back, knowing how she needs this to end, wanting to save just a stroke or two for her overstimulated, hypersensitive flesh, wanting to use her body at the very end for his pleasure and his pleasure alone, no matter how much she enjoys him doing so. He waits until she's nearly come down and he can't stay still any longer and takes one, two, three hard strokes and she shudders in his arms, barely able to stand it and then he's there, four and five push him over the edge and six finishes him as she exhales and waits, purposely not breathing, until her body forces her to draw another breath. With it comes a temporary peace, satisfaction, some serenity until the chemicals wear off and life intrudes again. But she always knows the way to his doorstep and he, to hers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Still don't own House. If I did, I'd be doing this instead of typing it. Also, I have $300 in my bank account right now. Hence, no profits. **

**A/N: No clue where this one came from. Blame Freud. **

**f5**

Gregory House's problem had always been that he thought too much. In his line of work, of course, this particular flaw had made him brilliant and revered, had made him one of the best, if not _the_ best, diagnosticians in the world. He'd sit for hours, sometimes lying on the floor of his office staring at nothing, sometimes spinning his cane, sometimes tossing his ball. His mind was never, ever quiet, and even when he wasn't consciously aware of his thought processes, they were still going on. Wilson would always rib him about his "eureka" moments, where he'd get that familiar look in his eyes and run from Wilson's office, off to save the day for some patient who'd have died without him. House's mind obviously didn't work right, but it was miswired in such a way that made it the envy of boring, average, normal people.

House had never really believed much in Karma, Fate, or any other type of supernatural force that kept the universe in balance because to him, the universe was very much out of balance most of the time. Outside observers, however, saw the trade-off that was House quiet clearly. He was both blessed and cursed at the same time. His intellect was unfathomable. His emotional intelligence was nearly non-existent. He'd relied so heavily for so long on the cerebral that all other processes of his mind, including appropriate emotional responses, had all but atrophied like what muscle remained in his damaged leg. It was like he wore on the outside of his body the loss that had occurred on the inside.

Allison Cameron's problem had always been that she felt too much. She'd run out of fingers and toes before she could count all the times she'd made the "right" decision on a flood of emotion rather than rationality or evidence, and would also run out of fingers and toes if she tried to count all the times that decision had not actually been right. While others were frustrated, mystified, angered, or even horrified when they stared into House's eyes and saw analytical nothingness as others cried, screamed, ranted and raved, Cameron was only jealous. Her emotions never shut off just as House's mind never did. If she ever had stopped to think about it, which of course she didn't, that was the main reason she was involved with House in the first place. Even from the first time they were together, if you can count a zipless fuck in a parking garage as "being together", he'd forced her out of her heart and into her body.

From that point on, they'd assumed their usual roles. Even when he was fucking her – and as much as Cameron hated that word she couldn't describe what they did as anything else – House was thinking. He was thinking about what she needed and how to give it to her, how to push just far enough and then a little further, how to convey respect and appreciation without giving up the dominant position that was such an integral part of his personality and their dynamic, he thought about how and where to touch her and what to say to garner the desired reaction. He couldn't even fuck without thinking about it.

Two weeks after Kutner's death she stumbled upon House as close to expressing any kind of emotion as she'd ever seen him. He'd started wearing the watch Kutner had given him, which he passed off as a thought experiment to see how long it would take before someone noticed and asked if he was okay, but more than that, he wanted to know why and it was more than a puzzle, more than him thinking he'd lost his mojo, more than needing an answer. He'd blamed Kutner's parents, Cuddy and Foreman and Thirteen and anyone else within earshot, hypothesized that it had been a murder, questioned until there were none left to be asked, when the answer was simply that Kutner didn't want to live anymore. Nothing more, nothing less. Although House didn't recognize it in himself, Cameron could see quite obviously at least two stages of grief and no matter what House would have to say about it, grief was an emotion.

And so she waited for the right moment, for a night when it was too late for even House to be at the hospital and, if he had still been there, he'd have long been asleep on his couch, drunk, rather than how she found him, sitting in his chair, staring at absolutely nothing.

Cameron pushed the door open and considered a million different actions. Her heart told her to hold him, no matter how much he struggled and insulted, until she saw just one tear roll down his cheek, but that approach had never gotten her anywhere, at least where House was concerned. He felt things, on some level he felt even _more_ than "normal" people, he just didn't feel them in the same ways. The only thing House could do in the face of emotion was retreat into the deepest reaches of his own brain.

She walked up to him, nudged his legs off the ottoman they were propped up on and sat on it, taking his wrists in her hands. "It's easy, Greg. He was lonely and sad. He didn't want to live anymore. So he isn't."

"It's not that simple. He wouldn't kill himself. I was there. I saw…"

"You saw where he _killed himself_."

"He didn't. He saved for months for that gun and…people that have guns in their homes…more often than not they get murdered with them."

She tightened her grip on his wrists. "Murdered for what, Greg? For Star Wars figurines?" Cameron stood and leaned forward, never releasing her grip on House, pressing his wrists instead against the arms of the chair. Her lips were a whisper away from his. "Stop thinking." She could sense he was still fighting this, fighting the need to rationalize, fighting her. She bent her knees slightly to look in his eyes, since he was purposely avoiding hers. "Greg. _Stop thinking_. Feel. I'll think for both of us tonight."

Through her fingers, Cameron could feel every muscle in House's body tense and primed. She knew she was on dangerous ground; this was the same man who'd punched Chase when he'd been emotional and in pain and Chase had tried to touch him, the same man who had no idea how to act when someone hugged him. Cameron trusted him explicitly and knew he'd never raise a hand to her in anger, but that didn't mean his reaction would be predicable if she pushed his limits too far. If he pushed her too far, she'd tell him to stop. That was what normal people did, but this was House. And she knew she was dancing on the very edge of his tolerance for being forced to let any kind of emotion past his reason.

"Just for tonight", she assured him. If House was willing to break for just one night, or if she could make him willing, he'd want the reassurance that he could deny it and bury it once the catharsis was over and go back to being alpha, dominant male. So she gave it to him. And meant it. After all, she'd never want him any other way.

Wrapping her fingers around the arms of the chair, imprisoning his wrists in the process, Cameron leaned forward just enough so her lips brushed House's. She wanted this to be his idea, to make the choice himself as to which way to go. Time held fast where it was for an agonizing moment, and then she smiled in self satisfaction and anticipation as she felt him lean toward her.

Of all the times she'd kissed him, she'd never felt him, tasted him, _experienced_ him so acutely before. Her fingers in his hair sensed its thick, slightly course texture as she pulled him closer to her, and she tasted his breath on the moan he tried to conceal when she stroked and scratched the back of his neck with her nails. His lips were rough and soft at the same time, and then it was her turn to moan at the sensuous, slippery feel of his tongue against hers. She kissed him with purpose, trying to tell him with her passion and her desire for him everything he wouldn't suffer to hear and in return, allowing him to release his pain, confusion and guilt into her in a way that wouldn't require him to be open and vulnerable in a way he wasn't capable of being. She relished the scratch of his beard against her cheek and chin, the heat of their bodies at every tiny point of contact, every nuance and component that made his scent and his feel uniquely his. She kissed him until it wasn't enough anymore, until she could pull him no closer and take him no deeper into her as they presently were, and as though he'd read her mind, he started to twist his wrists under hands. He was stronger than her by orders of magnitude, but all her weight was against him and all the leverage belonged to her.

Cameron was starting to see what it was about this kind of control that got him off so much and she was relishing the slow, hot, demanding way he was kissing her too much to make a move simply because he wanted her to. Her body seemed to want to absorb him. She shifted her weight and knelt down on the chair, both his legs between hers, and felt him try to pull his hands back and struggle for enough air to speak.

"Cam…please. Lemme touch you. I need to feel you." His voice was already breathy and sultry and betrayed his need to feel and get out of his brain if even just for just a few minutes, to be distracted. As Cameron was thinking about how letting go of his hands would free hers for more constructive pursuits his lips found that soft, vulnerable spot below her ear that he knew damn well made her weak and decided if she wasn't going to give him what he wanted, maybe he could get it through the indirect route: offering her what she wanted instead. "You _crave_ my hands on you…I know you do. This must be _torture_…please? Pretty please? I wanna put my hands _all over_ you…_everywhere_" He punctuated his offer with a gentle and mischievous nip at her earlobe and was smirking as he said it, she could feel it, but she could also feel that he was trying to cover up the fact that he was _this_ close to giving over and letting himself be pleasured and taken, if just once.

Convinced and too excited to refuse, Cameron accepted House's offer and shifted her weight to her knees, steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders and let go of his wrists. His hands went to her hips immediately, guiding her down against his in such a way so as to let her tease and pleasure them both, while sparing his leg at the same time. Once he had her where they both wanted her to be, he kept his word, slipping his hands under her shirt and touching her anywhere her fully-dressed condition would allow his hands to reach, not intending either to hurt or pleasure, just wanting her silky skin under his hands, to feel her warm and vital and here, now, with him, and for her to feel the contact of him somewhere on her body. She rubbed against him and squirmed in his lap, making both of their pulses and temperatures simultaneously spike, until she realized this was all going much too fast. She'd set out to make him feel, force everything else out of his mind, tease him desperate and delirious, and as good as this felt, there wasn't going to be any desperation at this rate. Not to mention, she felt like she was in the wrong skin, having become so accustomed to House being in control, being both reckless and completely conscious of each and every second and motion that passed between them, that she had no real idea what to do or how to do it, but she knew at the same time that when or if she got it right, she'd know it beyond the shadow of a doubt.

As difficult as it was to take a deep breath and think about what she was doing, she forced herself to do it, knowing the payoff would be worth it. Quickly but methodically unbuttoning House's shirt, she let her nails graze his skin as her hands crept down his chest, flattening her hands and stroking, rubbing, determined to touch just about every inch of his body before the night was over. His chest felt fantastic under her hands. Aside from the obvious, his chest and arms were her favorite parts of his body. He was built just the way she liked, not too hairy, too thin or too muscular, both firm and soft in all the right places. She took her time exploring those curves she loved so much, running her hands over his solid pecs and skating her nails down his sternum and then up and back out over his upper arms, pressing her fingers into to well-defined divet between his biceps and triceps, leaning forward to kiss and nibble on his neck in the meantime.

House, for his part, was both savoring this gentle and thorough treatment and more than a little put off himself. He'd always considered himself a top and always been the dominant partner when he had a woman into that sort of thing (and Cameron was by far the absolute best bottom he'd had yet, one who not only wanted to please him but genuinely _wanted_ to submit), and he didn't feel like he was in the right skin either, doing nothing but sitting there while Cameron did as she pleased with him. Which, of course, wasn't to say that he didn't like it. He did. Oh yes, dear lord yes, he did. He wasn't at all used to being touched like this, and his body processed every sensation as novel and ramped it up about twofold as a result. Cameron had barely even touched him and he was already so hard it hurt, had been hurting ever since she'd started writhing in his lap like a school girl in the back seat of the car on prom night. And she was going _much_ too slowly.

What he really wanted to do was throw her onto the floor and fuck her insensible, but men with only one functional leg can't really go throwing people on the floor too easily, so he was stuck. He tried at least to get a little more contact between them and a little less friction, more than a little afraid he was going to shoot off in his pants as though he were in high school too if she kept up moving against him like this, so he shoved her jacket off her shoulders, throwing it to the side of the chair and then went for the buttons of her blouse, which joined her jacket, and then her bra wasn't far behind. He'd always been a chest man himself, and her breasts were, in his book, absolutely perfect. He tilted his head to suck on one her beautiful, sensitive nipples, already almost able to hear her moan and cradle his head in her hand – she loved to have her nipples sucked and through repetition and familiarity he'd figured out just how she liked him to do it – and just before his tongue would have turned her into a quivering mess in his lap she put all her weight on his shoulders and shoved him back against the chair.

He growled in frustration and tried to push against her but she wasn't having it and for whatever reason, he had no idea. She cleared things up by working his dress shirt down his arms, giving him the hint that she wanted to be on a level playing field of undress, so he leaned forward and helped her slip his shirt off. Pulling her close again he picked up where he'd left off, dying to tongue and nibble on her sensitive tits until she'd be practically tearing his pants off and riding him like hobby horse, or lying down on the floor and begging him to fuck her raw – god, he could almost feel it already - but instead of getting a mouthful of sweet scented and soft-as-silk flesh he got another shove back, this one more forceful and with more conviction.

Before he could question or protest or even think, his vision whited out, then greyed out, then turned black as his eyes fluttered closed as she gave him a first hand demonstration of what she liked so much, first running her nails over his flatter, smaller nipples and then taking first one, and then the other into her mouth, circling her tongue around and over it until he heard someone moan, and it must have been him because he knew it wasn't her (was it?) and his already aching cock throbbed in his pants. If House would have been able to think, he would have wondered if men were supposed to like this and why no woman had ever thought to try it before, but he couldn't, and so he just let his head fall back against the chair, mainly because he couldn't hold it up himself, and let Cameron pleasure him until his breathing became only deep, random gasps as Cameron's tongue covered every inch of his neck and chest, first biting along the tops of his shoulders, sending chills down his spine, then gently kissing and stroking his chest, every so often delivering a bite or a scratch or a soft, wet tongue to his nipples, now that she'd figured out at least one way to drive him out of his mind.

He hadn't even realized how far gone in sensation he'd been until he felt the contact between them broken as Cameron stood up and removed the rest of her clothes and then started on his. His brain registered no coherent though, he wanted only tight and hot and wet and _release_, and he eagerly lifted his hips to help her out to that end. And then her hand was wrapped around him, thankfully wrapped around him tight and by some miracle of woman's intuition or medical school or but she knew _just_ how to stroke him, just the way he liked it, the way he did it himself only better because it wasn't his hand but hers.

"Ah", he breathed as she found the right rhythm. "Ah god that's _good_." House didn't know if he was just that worked up or if she was that good at jerking him off or both but it felt too good to think about for too long.

She kept stroking him and even got that delicious little twist at the top of every stroke exactly right, she knew his body _so well, _he couldn't believe how fucking _good_ her hand felt and pride be damned, he started to thrust his hips up into the moist friction of her fist, groaning every time her hand slid around the sensitive head of his cock and her thumb pressed on the exact right spot below it on the way back down. She was way too good at this for him to take much more and for as badly as he wanted to come, he most certainly did not want to do it in her hand if he could help it.

He tugged on her free arm, and when that didn't work he linked his fingers with hers and tried to pull her towards him. "Come on up here and ride me." Cameron loved the sound of deep, sexy growl of his voice when he was this turned on, and it took every shred of will she had not to oblige, but she was far from done with him. She slowed down her rhythm a little bit but kept up the pressure and every other delicious, torturous thing her hand was doing to him because she wanted to hear him beg some more, she wanted to hear him _feel_ something. She twisted her hand around him again and then he begged in earnest, no smirk and no pride.

"Come on…please. Don't you want me inside you? You can have it just the way you like, nice and slow and deep, all the way in and then some, just how you want it, please baby, just fuck me, _please_."

She was dying to have him inside her, aching for it, but she reminded herself she would soon, they'd both get what they wanted, but after she'd forced all rational thought out of his mind, all thought at all, but for now, right now, she was going to have to push him past what he thought his limit was to get him there. That was the only way to deal with House, whether one had their hand wrapped around 9 hard inches of him or not.

Without missing a stroke she raised herself up on her knees and brushed her lips against his. He strained forward to kiss her but she pulled back and looked him dead in the eyes. "You are So. Fucking. Sexy when you beg." She punctuated each pause with a nice, tight squeeze that made him thrust harder into her hand. She settled herself back as she had been on the floor in front of him and picked up where she'd left off, stroking his thigh with her left hand, feeling how hot and sticky his skin had become and knowing it was taking all the control in his body not to go over the edge; control he felt himself rapidly losing.

"Stop" House gasped out. "Stop or I'll come."

Cameron ghosted her nails over his thigh and squeezed him tighter. "I'm not gonna stop." She heard him groan, knowing he wasn't going to last two more strokes. She felt him tense, felt his breathing stop, and then she wrapped her hand around him and squeezed the one spot that would stop the inevitable. "And you're not gonna come."

She waited until House started breathing again, wishing she'd have had something handy to record the strangled sound of pleasure and need he made because it was the hottest thing she'd ever heard, before she climbed back into the chair, straddling his lap. She kissed him lightly and whispered against his lips "Is this what you want?" His hands circled her hips, pulling her towards him, but she stopped just short of what she wanted and he needed so much. It was her turn to make him talk. "Say it, Greg." She traced the shell of his ear with her tongue as he turned his head and answered her, hoping that maybe if he whispered it in her ear in a breath of passion, he could convince himself she didn't _really_ make him say it.

"Yeah, it's what I want." He thrust his hips instinctively up toward her, close enough to feel her heat and wetness against him. She pushed back, taking him inside her just enough to make them both need more. He groaned and closed his eyes, his hands insistent on her hips as he encouraged her. "That's it…sit on me. Take me deep." He thrust up again and then he was all the way inside her, consumed.

She rode him slowly but steadily, keeping him right on the edge as she got herself there as well, which didn't take much after he leaned back so that every stroke rubbed her right where she needed it. She watched him intently, trying to memorize what he looked like when he wasn't thinking, knowing she'd never see it again, trying to burn the way his lips parted and his body moved as he let himself be pleasured. She could have stared for hours, burning every moment into her mind's eye, but she knew she was close to torturing him, and herself in the process, so she sped up her hips a little and then a little more until with a soundless scream he emptied himself inside of her and with a quick rock of her hips to just the right spot she brought herself to a small but satisfying climax right on the heels of his.

He could explain the way he'd let her hold him afterward rationally, of course. It was all oxytocin and neurotransmitters and hormones. Obviously. It had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted any sort of human connection or affection or comfort in the face of all that had happened. He was simply post-coital. Gregory House, after all, was above the need to reaffirm his own life or seek any sort of escape at all. That just wouldn't be rational. Nope. It was all just biochemicals. He fell asleep on Cameron's shoulder with her arm around him, gently stroking his hair, out of nothing but textbook physiology.


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

Neither of them was sure how they'd ended up positioned like this, but neither complained. House was pressed up against Cameron's back, his arm draped possessively over her hips and his hand curled around her waist, and if she hadn't been holding him up, he'd have been lying on his stomach. His weight pressed her slightly forward. She was neither asleep nor awake, and she didn't know if House was in either state himself, feeling far too safe and content to care. The irony of feeling safe and content with _House, _much less _in bed_ with House drifted momentarily through her mind, but lasted only long enough to be obliterated by the softness of his tongue and the scratchiness of his beard against the back of her neck. He seemed to want to take his time and she certainly didn't mind as one wave of pleasure after another strolled down her spine.

Cameron linked her fingers with his, backwards, over her breastbone and pulled him closer and it was almost as if House had studied self defense somewhere along the line, using her momentum against her to flip her onto her stomach, allowing his hands and mouth full access to all the sensitive spots that weren't usually obvious or accessible. This is when Cameron truly realized the perks of sleeping with a doctor, especially a doctor that got off on reducing her to a quivering, begging mess. Who'd have guessed that little crease under her shoulder blade, or the dent above her tailbone were erogenous zones? House would have…that's who. If she was honest with herself, really and truly honest, she liked him much better when he was thinking and analyzing, because when he was thinking, he was doing things to her that felt like _this_. Not that she hadn't enjoyed fucking him speechless – there were just certain up sides to _being_ fucked speechless, and she'd learned after the first couple of times that if she gave House everything he wanted he did the same for her. She didn't know if he intended to do it or not, or if it was all part of whole submissive/dominant thing, and she didn't really care. He made it feel too good to care. The pleasure, the pain, flesh against flesh, body inside body, pushed out everything else.

And so, before she even knew it, she was the aforementioned begging, quivering mess under the attentions of his hands, his mouth, his body. It didn't go unnoticed by her that she'd been with House so many times now she could almost feel the rush of control in his blood as if it were her own, and knew he felt her giving in as if it were him. This was part of what made it so intense. They both felt everything the other felt, each missing opposite and complimentary parts of each other. They _needed _each other, viscerally, desperately, although both were too proud to admit it. So, when she started to rub against his aroused form pressed against the small of her back, and he asked her if she really wanted it _like that_, it was just a formality.

It didn't make her any less nervous, though. She'd never, ever, not once in her life ever done _this_, although she had been curious about it. She'd just never had a partner she'd trusted enough. Until now. Still kissing her neck, her ears, her shoulders, House asked her one more time: "You sure?" and she nodded. She wanted this, and she wanted to do it with him. She chuckled a little in her own mind when she realized what she was nervous about: she was afraid of the pain. Oh, the irony. But then House's hand was between her thighs, working her until her muscles gave out, and all fear or doubt was erased from her memory as his fingers rubbed her clit in slow, delicious little circles, stroking up and down here and there, with perfect pressure and perfect rhythm until she was nearly there and he slowed his pace slightly, not leaving her hanging, just taking her back down to a lower level of excitement, subtly and gently. His thumb stayed at her clit, randomly stroking and pressing, as his last two fingers slid lower, teasing and exploring her other entrance. Her breath hitched at the new sensation; it felt good, but it felt _wrong_ too. House felt her simultaneously tensing her body up and squirming under his hand and knew immediately what was going through her mind. He pressed harder on her clit and harder with his other fingers, too. He could tell she liked it, she just didn't think she was supposed to. His fingers found a soothing, exciting rhythm as he reassured her. "It's OK to like it, Alli." He pressed a little harder, stroking her clit a little faster, not entering her yet, just trying to get her used to the feeling and enjoying it before he did anything that had any potential to hurt. "It's sensitive there for a reason, you know. Otherwise, how would you know when to answer nature's call?" His voice was playful and soothing and he felt her laugh lightly and start to relax. "And when those nerves get stroked" - his finger swiped gently around the rim of her anus – "and caressed" – he pressed a little more firmly "it's going to feel good, just like it does anywhere else". He increased the pressure of his thumb on her clit and felt her pulse pick up as her arousal increased again. He teased and stroked her, everywhere, with all the patience in the world, until she was freely and shamelessly squirming against his fingers, wanting to see what other things felt like.

"Would you like more?" he cooed in her ear, syrupy and sultry. Part of it was power, sure. Control Freak House was back, in top form, and he wanted her to admit out loud to both of them, but mostly to herself, how much she wanted this, but part of it was pure lust and anticipation. It had been _years_ since he'd had a woman willing to let him do this, even most hookers wouldn't either out of lack of trust, taboo, or risk of disease, but like most men, he'd always loved it, both because it was taboo and also because it was just plain tight as all _hell_. He could barely wait, but he had to wait, because Cameron was trusting him both not to hurt her and to know what he was doing, which he did. Which is why he knew he had to get her both as turned on as possible and as relaxed as possible, because no matter what he did, this first time was not going to be all that comfortable for her, and taking all the power and decision making responsibility from her turned her on beyond all reason.

Cameron nodded the answer to his question, and this one time, House didn't push for more. She was already nervous enough. "OK." He kissed her lightly and reassuringly at her hairline, making her shiver. "We're gonna need something slippery, you know. And lots of it." She gestured over to her bedside table. "Bottom drawer. Black bottle." House swung his legs over the bed and leaned over to open the drawer, finding a half-full bottle of lube tucked up against the corner of the drawer. He didn't ask why it was there, or why it was only half full because she always got soaking wet for him. He'd save that query for another time. He popped open the bottle and spread some of the slick liquid over his hand and placed it back on the nightstand for now. He caressed her until she was enjoying it again, then slipped just the tip of his fingers inside her tight, virgin, back door. She immediately tensed up on him so hard he couldn't have gone further if he wanted to, which was what he expected, so he just stilled his hand and reassured her until she calmed down. "Just relax." He planted soft, feather light kisses along the curve of her ear. "It's just my finger. I won't go further until you tell me to, OK?" She might be letting him be in control, but only she knew for sure what was going on with her body, so he had to take his cues from her. He knew it probably didn't hurt her at this point, but he also knew that her body didn't know what to do with the feeling either. He talked her through the initial shock of sensation until he felt her relax and she told him she was OK.

House rubbed Cameron's back softly with his left hand as he pushed forward slowly, ever so slowly, feeling it get easier as he got past the first two rings of muscle, until his middle finger was as deeply inside her as it could go. "_So far, so good_", he thought, as Cameron expressed no signs of discomfort and didn't tense up again. "You're doing great." He felt her melt even more at his reassurance and approval. "How's it feel?" He wiggled his finger slightly, barely moving, trying to get her to the point where she'd start enjoying it. "Burns a little," she replied, but he also heard the arousal in her voice. "That'll go away," House explained. "Just move against my hand a little, get used to it. It'll start to feel good in a while, trust me." When she started to squirm against his fingers, House finally noticed how turned on he was getting. His cock throbbed, demanding his attention, as Cameron experimented with the feeling of his finger inside her, trying to find a spot where it felt good and then started to push back against his hand, thrusting just a half inch at a time. He wanted to stroke himself, just a little, just to take the edge off for a few minutes, but he couldn't. The hand that wasn't buried inside the willing body of the hottest, most trusting woman he'd ever been with was both soothing her and balancing his weight. He'd just have to wait his turn.

He started to move in time with the rhythm of her hips, thrusting his finger in and out opposite her motions until it moved easily and he could tell she was ready for more. He grabbed the bottle of lube again and without removing his finger, added a little more, making sure his fingers and her skin were nice and wet and slick. "Ready?" He didn't even have to specify what he was asking. She knew, and she wanted it. This was getting good. "Yeah." House never thought one word, a word he heard any number of people say every day, could be so damned erotic when served with a twist of pain, pleasure, nerves and surrender. "This is gonna start to hurt a little." The irony hit him then, too. "It's OK. Just go slow. I trust you." Cameron's last sentence made all the blood his House's body head south. There was _nothing_ she wouldn't do for him. He angled his wrist to give his index finger room to join in and slid it gently against the finger already inside her and pushed. She sucked in a breath through her teeth as she felt her outer muscles stretch and burn and House stopped cold, not wanting to cause her any undo pain. Cameron, however, had other ideas. "Don't stop…don't you dare stop," she almost commanded him. House was confused. Her plea wasn't out of pleasure and desire, this _had_ to hurt, and it probably wasn't the kind of pain anyone would want more of, and if she was going to do it to please him, he ran the risk of seriously hurting her if she wasn't going to be honest with him as to what she was feeling. "Baby, you don't have to…this can't be all that pleasurable for you right now." If she didn't want him to stop, he wasn't going to stop, but he didn't want her to take too much too fast either. "It's not. It hurts. But it will be pleasurable. If you just _do it_." Then House got it. She wanted the worst parts of the pain over as quickly as possible. He slipped the second finger alongside the first as smoothly and quickly as he could and heard Cameron groan and take a few deep, hitching breaths to get through the sudden assault on her nerves and felt her muscles twitch and contract as they tried to figure out how to handle this invasion.

Cameron willed herself to relax and her breathing to even out and eventually, she was able to start to move again. It didn't feel as good as it had with only one finger inside of her, but it didn't feel terrible either, once the stretching and fullness let up a little. House took his cues from her, moving no more than she seemed able to handle, kissing her and stroking her and murmuring words of encouragement into her ear. He found it both beautiful and strange that he was about to violate her in the most intimate and forbidden way and this was as close to "making love" as they'd been yet. He wasn't sure what he thought about that. Any of that.

After the searing burn subsided, Cameron found herself strangely anxious to get to the main event. It wasn't that she wanted to just get it over with, she wanted to see if she could do it or not, and if she'd like it or not. She rocked back against House's fingers and felt him push in deeper. The feeling was so alien she couldn't call it pleasure or pain, but she knew she could take it. She flexed and tested and moved against him, acclimating herself and wordlessly asking him for more at the same time, but he wasn't obliging. She mewled and squirmed under the gentle but insistent pressure of his touch, nervous but impatient at the same time. "Greg…" His name was almost more than she could manage. The anxiety and these strange new feelings and the suspense were at the front of her mind. "What? Tell me what you want. Wanna stop?" He would be sorely disappointed if she did, sure, but he knew there would be another time to try, once her mind and body had caught up with this new experience. "No. I…I want you in me. I want to know what it feels like." House had apparently found a woman who shared his curiosity as well. "Are you absolutely sure? I'll go slow, but...I mean…it's still gonna hurt." His words were tender, but carried a serious edge. Although he'd been using his fingers to loosen her muscles up, he was a good bit thicker and certainly longer than two fingers and while he wanted this more than he'd wanted anything in a long time, she, in all honesty, probably wasn't going to like it too much. "So did losing my virginity. And I wanted that." He had to admit she had a point. The two acts really weren't much different. "I'll tell you to stop if I have to. I promise." His concern must have been palpable in his voice.

He reached over for the black bottle again and dribbled plenty over his erection, which by now was an alarming shade of red. He positioned herself between her knees and guided her hips to a more accommodating angle. In one motion, he slipped his fingers slowly from her and pushed in with his cock. He thrust hard enough that the head slipped in all at once, knowing the thickest part of him was going to hurt her the worst. He stopped half way in and watched Cameron bite down on her forearm which, up until now, she'd been resting her head on. He hated having to hurt her like this, but there was no other way. She cried out in pain and he felt her push, trying to get her muscles stop cramping. "You OK? We can stop now if you…" She took a deep breath and focused on calming her breathing and her body and gratefully felt the protesting cramp in her lower body let go. "No, you're fine. I told you I'd - _ow_ – say something if I couldn't take it. Just don't move yet." She was basically asking House to do the impossible. He either had to move because the vice-tight pleasure around him was getting unbearable, or he had to stop entirely. For a long minute both of their breathing was pained and labored; Cameron trying to breathe through the pain of being penetrated like this, and House trying to breathe through the pleasure that threatened to drive him out of his mind if he didn't move and _now_.

Cameron finally broke the standoff. "Now. I want it all. Just…slow. Please." House found that moving as slowly as he had to so that she could take all of him was only slightly easier than not moving at all, which wasn't making too much of a distinction, but at least it was some friction, some relief. After what felt like an hour, he was all the way inside of her. He remembered the last virgin (though not of the anal variety) he'd been with, some 15 years ago, and how agonizingly fantastic it had been to sink himself slowly inside of her, knowing he was the first man to have ever done it. This was fifty times better. And worse. He'd never felt so good or so frustrated in his life. At the end of that first languid stroke he felt Cameron shudder. "Still OK?" She hurt. She felt full and her muscles strained and burned, and her brain was asking her what the hell she was trying to do. But she could take it, had a feeling that in a while, or next time (and she was pretty sure there would be one of those) that she might actually start to like it. "Fine. Move." She pressed back against House's hips, feeling him slip a fraction of an inch deeper into her, amazed at how she could feel his every motion.

On that first up stroke, House lost his breath. There was an unbelievable amount of friction, almost too much, and he stopped before thrusting in again to add a little more lube, hoping to make things less painful for Cameron and to make himself last longer than two strokes. It seemed to do the trick on both counts, because on the next down stroke, Cameron didn't show any indication of pain or discomfort and House almost thought he felt her part her legs a little more, trying to let him a little deeper in. He stopped at the bottom of that stroke, not sure he could pull back again without coming. He rocked his hips inside of her, a couple inches at a time at first, then three or four, and they both seemed to be able to take it better this way. Cameron started to whimper softly every few strokes, which House could tell weren't expressions of pain, and he was able to enjoy this without fear of melting his brain.

He eventually got a gentle rhythm going and as soon as he did, it was like he'd ran right up to the edge of the precipice and was ready to throw himself clean off. "You're doing so good for me. I knew you would." Cameron felt the first strong shot of pleasure since he'd entered her course up her spine at House's words. She sighed and her body gave over a little more. The sharp pains had passed, she just felt full and a little achy but there was a hint of pleasure there too, and he was less afraid of causing her too much pain than he had been at first. House's body was tortured, torn between feeling pleasure he hadn't felt since – actually, he didn't think he'd ever felt pleasure like this – and needing just _that_ much more to have what he knew was going to be the climax of a lifetime. "Think you can take it a little harder?" As if to test it out before answering, she thrust her hips back at the top if his next stroke and heard House groan in surprise, but mostly pleasure. He was in a state of ecstasy that had put his body into a level of arousal and sensitivity he hadn't thought possible. All his senses were in overdrive, every touch and every motion was electric. All the pain in his body was erased except the aching in his cock and the screaming in his brain that was demanding him to hurry, move, push. He thrust in again and Cameron pushed back. Sure. She could do it. "Yeah…feels better now. But careful." She knew she was on a thin line between pleasure and agony.

House drew back and thrust in again, faster and harder this time and _ohmygod__**yes**_ he knew this was gonna do it. He pulled back and almost swore his bones were being sucked from his body. "Yeah…oh yeah" and now it was Cameron's turn to lose her mind over that one word. "Never felt _anything_ this good" and her stomach clenched not in pain, but in pleasure as she almost felt everything House was feeling. One more stroke and he felt himself losing it. He held her close, biting and nipping at her neck and shoulders. "Almost…there." He thrust into her the hardest he had yet. "So good, baby…so good." She took it without complaint, her body almost as tense as his was, wanting to feel him shatter inside of her. His body went into auto pilot and he thrust three, four times as deeply as he could, his breath strained in through his clenched teeth, Cameron heard him moan once, then twice, then bury his head in her shoulder as an orgasm that left him drained of all strength took him. As he came back to earth and separated her body from his, she felt a warm and content glow descend over her. House's hand returned between her thighs. "You didn't get to…want me to finish what I started?" She linked her fingers with his, backwards, over her breastbone and pulled him closer. "Don't need to. I'm plenty satisfied." Neither of them was sure how they'd ended up positioned like this, but neither complained. "Thank you" was the last thing House muttered into her ear before they lay peacefully and enjoyed the silence, safe and content.


End file.
